


Smoke & Mirrors

by aphrxdite



Category: Narcos (TV), Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Car Sex, Consensual Sex, Drugged Sex, Everyone smokes because its the 90s, F/M, Gunplay, Hurt Javier Peña, I'm so sorry please don't sue me netflix, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Humor, Javier Peña is jealous of reader, Murphy being romantic, Murphy is a Little Shit, Office Sex, Peña fights Murphy over reader, Peña is overprotective, Peña is sexy as fuck and does everything to remind the reader of it, Reader is obsessed with the ceiling fan in her appartment, Reader secretly prefers Murphy at the start (don't tell anyone!), Reader tries drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Steve Murphy is tired of Peña's shit, Threesome, Train Sex, Wax Play, again I'm sorry this is a shameless fic, driving under the influence, threesome on a jet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrxdite/pseuds/aphrxdite
Summary: After defeating Pablo Escobar, Javier Peña and Steve Murphy decide to celebrate with you!Unknown to them, you still have a job to do.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Steve Murphy (Narcos)/Reader, Steve Murphy/Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Druglord's Dead

Dawn broke through the mist which suffocated the streets of Medellín, crimson rays of light seared the damp air, burning it off and giving way to a new day. It was early summer, one of the hottest weeks of the year, and your arms were pinned to your side by the DEA Agent who straddled your hips, his face glowing in the breaking dawn.

On the bedside table to your right, sat what remained of the cigarette he’d abandoned in a half-finished glass of whiskey, the acrid smell of nicotine and alcohol surrounding you both whilst his lips parted over the bare skin of your stomach, the sheen of sweat on your skin disappearing where his tongue dragged across it, tasting your arousal.

A flash of dark hair brushed across your navel, tickling the painfully sensitive skin, and your eyes trailed up to the ceiling where you watched the repeating ceiling fan complete its cycle, completely useless against the trapped heat of the room.

His tongue trailed downwards, closer to your aching core, and his teeth bit against the lace fabric of your underwear.

“This isn’t very appropriate for the field,” He remarked, blood rushing to your cheeks as he said your name. You _knew_ that hooking up with one of your partners was wrong, hell, it complicated things a lot more, but you also couldn’t deny the insatiable desire for him that ate away at you for every office hour – and it was worse during stakeouts.

His grip removed itself from one of your wrists, the pins and needles rendering your limb useless, and he used his free hand to lift your rear off the sheets, allowing him to drag your panties down your legs with his teeth. The agent’s eyes trailed up to meet yours, and you noticed how black they looked in this light. He exhaled a long painful breath, the air he blew out cooling down the slick coming from between your thighs.

You turned your head into the protection the sage green sheets offered and groaned his name in ecstacy.

But before the agent could continue, there was a loud lock at your apartment door, making Peña slump against your legs and lazily trail kisses up your skin.

“Y/N, we’ve spotted Escobar, c’mon,” Your other partner whispered from outside your front door, “If you’re asleep, I swear, I’m gonna drag your ass to the city in your pyjamas,” his Southern drawl sounded out, and you felt the agent on your legs stand up and wobble to where he’d abandoned his underwear the previous night.

Without saying a word to each other, Peña staggered over to the couch in the living room and collapsed onto it, pretending that he’d only just awoken. Meanwhile, you pulled on the t shirt you always slept in and padded barefoot to the door of your apartment.

You opened the door, the blond DEA agent, otherwise known as Murphy to you, leaned against the mahogany doorframe with a lit cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, “G’morning to you too,” You whined, allowing him into your home whilst his eyes scanned for Peña.

“Peña, you really have to stop crashing on her couch, man,” He chuckled, walking over to your fridge and helping himself to the bottle of milk that was probably expired. He sniffed it before beginning to drown himself with it, the lactose dripping from his moustache as he withdrew the rim from his plump lips, “When the fuck did this go out of date? I think I just swallowed a lump,” Murphy said while he poured it down the bronze sink.

You rolled your eyes, and pulled up your jeans, securing your weapons belt and tucking your oversized shirt into the hem before pulling over the bulletproof vest, “Fuck me,” you gasped, feeling the weight of the ceramic plate weighing you down, “do I really have to wear this piece of shit?”

“Yes,” Peña and Murphy spoke in unison.

The brunette pulled on his cowboy boots and continued getting ready whilst you pulled your hair up and away from your face.

Murphy handed you the half empty carton of orange juice and passed his lighter across to light the cigarette you’d put between your lips. You never used to smoke but something about hunting down an infamous drug lord was enough to reduce anyone to chain smoking.

You breathed in the burnt tobacco and felt the same light-headedness that pleased you and somehow focused you more. It tasted something like coffee and dirt, but it was oddly euphoric.

“Is it really him this time?” Peña asked your partner, his own lips securing a cigarette he’d taken from your pack, “because last time we went to the wrong fucking house and I almost got fired,” he grouched, his eyelashes turning golden as he lit the end of his cigarette with a match he’d somehow found.

Murphy scratched his jaw, the sound of his stubble under his nails sending a shiver down your spine as you clipped your pager to your belt, “We’re certain its him this time,” he confessed.

“I’m driving,” You stirred, plucking the keys from Murphy’s hand and walking out into the hallway.

* * *

“Take a left here,” Peña yelled from the backseat, “I said LEFT, L-E-F-T, why did you fucking go right!” he yelled again whilst you rolled your eyes.

“D’you wanna get out and walk there? Or are you going to quit whining at let me do the driving?” You spat back, the adrenaline in your bloodstream running your ragged whilst you quickly spun the car around, Murphy grabbing onto the doorhandle for support.

You absolutely hated when you were yelled at, even more so when driving, “That’s what I thought,” you mumbled under your breath and continued breaking any road laws Colombia had, veering to the left and following the other gaggle of cop cars speeding towards the location that recon had pinned Escobar in.

Peña cursed at you in Spanish, his hand slick with sweat flattened his hair down, and you attempted to ignore his angry brown eyes staring at you through the rear-view mirror.

The Agent to your right pointed to a mustard yellow building, “That’s the one! Slow down, slow down!” he commanded, and you obliged.

“Next time, saying please might be a bit nicer,” Your voice was hoarse and tired from the sleepless night spent with the brunette in the back of the car, who was clearly in a pissy mood after being interrupted, “You can pay for the drinks when we take him down,” you added, slamming the car to a halt and getting out.

You drew your handgun, the familiar weight calming your nerves. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with a weapon, but this time you wouldn’t be shooting at some lowlife Escobar employee, you’d be firing at the real deal, and that was enough to make anyone nervous.

“What’s the deal?” Murphy asked and almost tripped over the sidewalk in excitement. You felt the laugh beginning to bubble in your chest whilst Peña got out of the car with ease and put on his sunglasses. His red shirt was tight across his shoulders and the way he walked ignited flutters in your lower abdomen.

One of the officers attending the scene began to brief you all on the situation but you couldn’t hear due to the blood rushing through your ears in anticipation of finally ending the Pablo Escobar sized headache that had plagued you for the better half of a year. You could already picture the mass celebrations that would ensue in the evening, maybe you’d even get a day to yourself to enjoy Colombia. Not that you _hadn’t_ enjoyed Colombia, but it would be so much better without a target over your head from wanting to rid of the most prolific drug lord the world was yet to see.

A hand planted itself onto the small of your back, Murphy.

“You ready, kid?” He asked you.

You nodded in response, not that you could speak even if you wanted to. This was the most dangerous thing you’d ever done… by FAR… and yet you felt calmer than most of the younger officers attending the takedown.

“We’re going in through the front, two cops will go first, then me and Peña, then you, got it?” The blond agent asked you.

You nodded again.

“No matter what happens, you do not let Escobar get out of this, you understand?” He asked you, and you nodded again.

Bile grew in your throat, and you swallowed it hard, bouncing on the balls of your feet and rolling your neck. Escobar wouldn’t go out without a fight, that was a given at this point, and the human part of you felt bad, but at the end of the day you had a job to do. And your job was to take Escobar down. No matter what.

Fuck… You should’ve stayed in bed and finished your activities with Peña.

Everyone readied themselves at the door, the battering ram flush against the door whilst Murphy counted down from three.

3…

You looked at the back of Peña’s head and thought about how his hair felt beneath your hands the previous night, he rolled his shoulders, feeling your gaze on him.

2…

A cascade of near-silent clicks filled the static air as everyone readied themselves for what all their effort and sleepless nights had led to.

1…

You placed your hand on Peña’s stiff shoulder, and he repeated the action to Murphy. You were ready.

_Thump… Thump…_

The battering ram dented the metal door, and a barrage of gunfire erupted from inside the residence. They were aware of your presence now, and it was only a moment before this whole ordeal would be over – but you didn’t know that at the time – and the cops continued to batter the door until it caved in and swung open.

It was like time slowed down and sped up at the same time. You could feel Murphy move you behind him whilst you fired blankly inside the house, hoping you hit whoever was firing at you, and at the same time you saw the casing pinging from your pistol and heard it landing on the path beneath you.

“Don’t let him get away!” Murphy yelled, entering the house behind the two police officers.

You watched in horror as the first one’s head caved in, blood and brain matter splattering onto his colleague who fired back at the assailant. There was nothing you could do for the officer; he was dead by the time his body slumped to the ground. The only thing you could do was ensure you didn’t trip over his corpse.

“They’re going for the roof,” The words spun past you, and you were just about to follow a cop up the stairs before a bookshelf fell down and scared the life out of you. The second cop fired up the stairs and slumped down.

Somehow you were in front of Peña and Murphy, and it didn’t scare you at as much as it should have. Instead, you felt confident, immortal. You followed Escobar and his only remaining lackey up into the second floor, shooting after them and making your way onto the roof where Escobar fired blindly at you whilst you scrambled across the roof slates.

Murphy shot at Escobar, landing a shot in his side, and Escobar slumped down, still shooting back at the three DEA agents who tailed him.

The only thing you could think of was how he was fatter in person.

“Javier!” You called back, not paying any attention to the stinging in your arm, “Javier?”

“I’m fine, go!” He replied, Murphy overtook you and was dangerously close to Escobar now.

You wondered if Escobar was as scared as he looked, but surely, he knew this day would come. He did pick this profession after all. He was still running, the gunshot to his side barely slowing him down.

Again, you fired blindly, praying to whoever would listen that it wouldn’t hit Murphy.

The bullet lodged itself into Escobar’s torso, slowing him down and forcing him to fall onto his back. You could hear his prays, his acceptance of his fate, and then the final gunshot echoed around the rooftops.

Murphy looked back at you, and you furrowed your brows. It hadn’t been you, and it hadn’t been him either.

“That’s for wasting my glory years,” Peña remarked in Spanish, and suddenly the rooftop fell silent. “I want to see that fucker up close,” he stormed over to the slumped corpse and there was something fairly cool about the way he swaggered over to his biggest nightmare, pistol remaining trailed on the unmoving corpse.

You so badly wanted to see him up close, but Murphy was running towards you, and you couldn’t think of why. Was he seriously going to embrace you after the most intense moment of your life?

Peña called back to you, his face paling as he scanned over you.

“What? Guys I’m fine,” you reinstated, looking down at your vest and seeing the bullet lodged into the ceramic plating, “See, it’s fine!” you plucked the bullet out and shoved it deep into your pocket.

Lightheaded-ness flooded you once again, “I think you should sit down, Y/N,” Murphy calmly stated, easing you to the ground before waving someone over.

“The vest stopped it, I don’t know why you’re fussing,” You laughed breathlessly, the fatigue creeping upon you after you expended all your energy on chasing the now dead drug lord. “Murph – quit it – I am fine,” you said again, running your non-dominant hand over your forehead and wiping the sweat from it. Jeez, you were sweaty.

One of the medical team made their way over to you, and pulled your non-dominant arm into their clutch, pressing gauze onto it.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what day it is?” The young man before you asked, his black hair stuck to his head by a sheen of sweat that appeared to be shared amongst everyone else.

You rolled your eyes, “December the 2nd, I think it’s a Thursday?” you spoke, ignoring the dull pain emitting from the limb the medic inspected. Your eyes were trained on Murphy and Peña, who were having their photo taken by the deceased.

The camera man turned to face you, and you smiled your best smile whilst the medic inspected your arm, he took the photo and Peña made his way across to you.

“It’s just a scratch, really,” you insisted, now admiring the blood that trickled down your wrist and onto the clay slates of the roof. It was oddly sobering in a way, you were bleeding on the same roof Escobar died on, and the bullet that was lodged into your vest probably originated from his pistol too. You knew it was a scratch, the bullet had been lodged into the wall behind you and shattered the glass, but it was only now that you had made sense of it all.

Brown eyes trailed down from the dint in your vest to your arm, and back up to the window, “You’re fucking lucky, let me tell you that,” He spoke with a tinge of annoyance in his voice, and you felt heat brimming in your cheeks whilst you tried to light another cigarette.

"I meant what I said in the car," You said, "You owe me a lot of fucking drinks tonight, Peña."


	2. Take a deep breath, sweetheart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter that took me over a week to write :')

By the time you left the DEA Headquarters of Medellín, the sun had set and had given way to an indigo sky peppered with stars and constellations you'd never been able to name. People milled the streets in celebrations and street parties filled the night air with inescapable music and joy - something you hadn't experienced in almost a year and a half since undertaking The Escobar Job - and flowers littered the floor with confetti making a mushy paste among the humid cobbles.

To say the least, you were excited. 

You had the night to yourself to celebrate, and the first thing you thought of... well... it was getting laid. After your morning was interrupted, Javier Peña had disappeared into his evening, leaving you alone with Murphy, who was currently walking you home and pointing out various sights of cartel murders. He wasn't a bad accomplice, he did make sure no one got too close to you, and his hand remained on the small of your back, where your spine met your pelvis, and more importantly where the curve of your ass began.

"And this, this is my personal favourite..." He babbled on, steering you towards the sidewalk where a random nightclub had been slaughtered, prostitutes and patrons alike. You could remember the paperwork now, it had been the start of your career against Escobar, it was what fuelled your passion for freeing Colombia (in the eyes of Uncle Sam, anyway) from its cocaine-fuelled reign of terror.

You smiled politely across at Murphy, and he carried on taking you closer to your house, the front door in sight and your outfit for tonight still piecing itself together in your mind... did you want to wear the red dress or the black dress? 

"My love," You started, "I'm going to get a shower and pretend you didn't give me the synopsis of my first DEA Assignment," you paused, now stood opposite him with your hand on his lower arm, "now, you can either wait in the living room for me... or you can join me," your eyelashes fluttered at him teasingly. Sure, he wasn't your first option, but he was still attractive enough to warrant wanting to fuck him.

Murphy struggled to process your proposal, his eyes glossing over whilst he ran through the options you had presented him with. You knew it had been a year since he last saw Connie (not that they had much of a relationship considering Murphy was married to his work) and you _knew_ he wasn't the type to associate himself with a prostitute like Peña had. So it left him frustrated, and facing his reality of how badly he'd wanted this. 

Before he answered you, you opened the door and shimmied your shoes off, laying them with reckless abandon next to the umbrella stand you had left there. The next thing you removed was the bulletproof vest, which you were planning on keeping to show your family on Thanksgiving as a 'fuck you' to your brother, and you leant it against the wall, the burnt orange paint darkening the hallway in the night.

"I could use a shower..." Murphy drawled as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes heavy with exhaustion. He ignored the guilt tugging at his wedding band, something he'd been ignoring for months after Connie went Stateside a over a year and a half ago. Sure, it was wrong, but God, the way you looked at him was enough to make him crumble into his desires.

He pulled at the collar of your shirt, taking you off-kilter and sending your weight into your other leg. Your hands splayed across the wall behind you, locking onto it for support whilst you arched your back as a response to the cold. You looked up at him, desperation burning a pit deep into your stomach and you could feel his eyes on your cleavage as he removed the garment. 

Another step deeper into the darkened house, your blood began to race so fast in your ear that you couldn't hear what he was saying, but you could tell he was probably on about how much he needed it, you'd known him long enough to know the sort of shit he cracked out with.

Without a warning, Murphy flicked the light on, the remnants of cigarette smoke dancing aimlessly in the air whilst the culprit lazily slouched against your sage green couch. Peña.

"Don't let me interrupt you," He croaked, the liquor and cigarettes tainting his tone and releasing any feelings you had towards Murphy into the night. "I was just waiting for us all to head out, I can wait longer," Peña commented, his dark eyes flittered between the two of you and then settled on your shirt hanging limply in Murphy's hand. He redirected his gaze back across to you, "Red suits you, though I doubt that's an appropriate bra for the field, agent." he coldly stated before turning his head to stare at the ceiling fan.

Heat blossomed across your chest in a furious blush, and you started speaking before your brain had even processed your thought, "You're just jealous I'm not letting you do this to me," you teased, swivelling around to face Murphy and - without a beat - planting a kiss along his jawline whilst his hand slithered up your bare spine and onto the base of your skull.

"We can share," you felt the vibrations as they rose from Murphy's chest and spilled out of his mouth in the most painfully lustful proposition he'd ever said. Fuck, it was the hottest thing - correction - one of the hottest things someone had said to you ever. Obviously, the top spot was reserved for Peña's comment during the first stakeout you'd done with just him... but there's a time and a place for those memories, and all you could think of right now was how fucking hot it was.

Your lips so badly desired to explore every inch of Murphy, yet you settled for the area where his jawline meet his neck, the dip in his skin providing the perfect place for you to bite down into; soft enough so as not to hurt him, but hard enough to elicit a response of a grunt from him. The taste of humid air and salt danced along your tongue, whilst you felt the soft skin under your lips, only slightly disrupted by the peppering of stubble which marred his skin.

Murphy snaked his hand up your spine and closer to your neck before he gripped the back of it desperately, not wanting you to let go, and you could feel Peña’s eyes on you both. With his free hand, Steve unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor in a red pool of lace and underwire.

Footsteps approached, and you didn’t dare remove your lips from where they continued mapping out your partner’s pulse – which drummed heavily against your swollen lips – and you felt something cold and hard pressing against your lower back, _his_ belt buckle.

You had only released your lips from Steve’s neck for a second to moan against his skin, yet you felt a chin bump against the back of your head… were they...?

Steve’s lips were all over Javi’s, and you couldn’t help but stare at how insanely attractive they both looked, Javi’s left hand in Steve’s dirty blonde hair whilst they passionately kissed.

You trailed your kisses further down Steve’s neck, until the fabric of his shirt blocked you and you got onto your knees. Shaking, you tried your best to unzip his pants when a smoother, larger hand gripped around your jaw, and pulled you upwards.

“Not yet,” Peña growled, and pulled your jaw towards his, crashing his lips onto your already swollen ones, tasting the remnants of Steve on his lips, whilst enjoying the familiarity he provided. You’d kissed Peña more times than you could count, but every time was better than the last, and this time you had Steve, too.

Steve’s hand ghosted over the bare skin of your abdomen and pulled down your work pants, busting the zipper and ripping the button clean off to get to what he wanted, the familiar ache in your legs eating you up whilst Steve’s fingers dipped beneath the red lace of your thong and danced over your clit in an achingly light manner.

You gasped into Peña’s mouth, and he pulled your face away from his, “You like that, don’t you?” he asked, and watched you nod against the palm that clamped around your jaw like a vice, “You’re such a whore,” he clumsily spoke, squeezing your cheeks until your eyes watered whilst he watched.

“She’s soaked,” Steve said into your shoulder, the blush on your chest creeping up to your face and kissing its way across your cheekbones, “tell me how much you want this, Y/N,” he softly whispered, his lips flush against the burning skin of your shoulder.

Air struggled to escape your lips, “I want you both so fucking much…” you assured, eyes staring back into Peña’s.

“Stick your tongue out,” Peña commanded.

You obliged, feeling completely useless in this situation, but it was what you wanted. Still looking up at him, you struggled to not moan against the pressure of Steve’s finger grazing your swollen clit, the tips of his digits glazed with the slick of your arousal.

Without a warning, Javi spat onto your tongue, his warm saliva tasting of whiskey and tobacco as it laid on your tongue and threatened to spill off it. Steve, on the other hand, bit into your shoulder and sped up his movements over your clit. The pressure built in an insatiable manner, sending pleasure to wash over your body and torture your bloodstream.

You moaned against Javi’s wrist, tilting your head so that it was supported by the grip he held on your jaw, and you felt his muscles tense up as he watched you close to your orgasm.

Steve sucked the spot below your ear, tasting your rapid pulse before the painfully delightful orgasm washed over you, casting blind spots in the corner of your vision and your knees to buckle under the movements as Steve continued his movements, riding out your orgasm with you.  
  
Javi licked his bottom lip, “Look at you, so fucking precious, aren’t you?” he said, causing your cheeks to flush bright red and the realisation hit you that you’d moaned _his_ name, instead of the man who was giving you the blissful release you desperately sought out.

“Shut up,” You retorted as you leaned backwards onto Steve, his fingers wiping your slick against your belly button, “Aren’t we supposed to be at the bar in twenty minutes?” you asked no one in particular and felt Steve chuckle behind you.

“Baby, no one’s gonna start drinking until we arrive,” He assured, and bit down on your neck again, causing all the air to vanish from your lungs in a strangled ‘okay’.

You couldn’t help your response, you’d wanted this for so long, but you also didn’t want to be late, and then arrive looking as though you’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and sent to Guantanamo Bay for a day.

“But…” you began whilst Steve’s hand crept up your chest and made its way around your throat whilst Javi led your spare hand to feel the strain in his jeans as his erection threatened to burst the seams of the fabric, “I don’t want to be late, okay?” you stated, only to be silenced by the sound of Steve unzipping his jeans one handed and freeing his cock from his underwear, the thick length grinding against your panties.

He moaned right in your ear, his hand now cupped in front of your mouth, “Spit,” he demanded, the assertiveness in his voice making you blindly oblige as you salivated into his palm, the mixture of yours, Javi’s and his saliva coating his calloused hand before he removed it and ran his hand over his twitching cock, anticipation for what he was about to do driving you wild.

Steve removed your panties, and you aided Javi in freeing his own erection, the size of it causing waterfalls between your legs as you ran your hand over it.

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart,” Steve whispered into your ear and you did as he asked before he pushed his entire length into your ass, causing a ragged moan to escape your throat as you tried to get comfortable with the sensation.

The man in front of you raised one of your legs before hoisting you into his grip, the men being taller than you enabling it to be more comfortable for them whilst Javi supported your weight and guided himself into your core, the familiarity of his cock deep inside you springing tears into your eyes as both of the men penetrated your aching body.

“Fuck,” You moaned, latching your hand into the brown mess of hair on the older of the two’s head.

They thrusted into you at the same time, causing a scrambled cry to erupt from your mouth whilst Steve continued peppering your neck with hickeys and bruises from where his teeth sunk into you whilst you clenched around their cocks.

Javi planted a soft, gentle kiss on your lips, the gentleness of it distracting you from the way Steve drove his thick cock deeper into you, hitting places you didn’t even think could be hit, and moaning into your ear with obscenities accompanied with the occasional ‘good girl,’.

You were a wreck when you felt an orgasm building deep in the pit of your heat, “I’m gonna-,” you warned, clenching down on Javi’s cock as he picked up the ruthless pace he was maintaining with ease.

A hand made its way to your hair and stroked it down, “Baby, you’re doing good,” Steve whimpered into the crook of your neck whilst Javi continued to pound into you, his own moans struggling against your lips.

The pressure continued to build, the duo’s movements causing intense pleasure to bloom across your entire body, your nipples now painful for how pebbled they were, and the corners of your vision started to darken, focusing your eyesight on Javi whilst your breath struggled to enter your lungs.

Javi’s cock hit the tender spot within your cunt, and it was over for you just like that. Your head slamming backwards into Steve’s shoulder whilst they continued thrusting their cocks deep into you. Your grip in Javi’s hair tightened and you arched your chest forwards into his face whilst you raspily moaned, the pair of them drawing out your painful orgasm until they had finished themselves.

You flopped against Steve’s chest, him now taking all of your weight as his hand made its way over to your dripping cunt and drew circles around your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm until the pair of them came in you, filling up both of your holes with their pleasure before you struggled through your third orgasm of the night, now dripping cum.

“Fuck!” You screamed, tears bursting from your eyes at the torturous release of the pleasure the two had provided. They held still, both spent from their own release as they allowed you to clench down on their cocks still inside you until you yourself were spent from the activity.

When they were sure you had finished, they settled you down until you struggled to stand on your living room floor, the balls of your feet reeling from the coolness of the room.

“I’m…” you started, struggling to catch your breath, “getting a shower,” the hand on the small of your back removed itself as you bowed over to gather the garments that had been torn from you and discarded on the floor, “Alone.” You clarified, walking across to your bathroom whilst feeling the cum dripping down your thighs with every gentle step you took.

* * *

After your shower, you had managed to sneak a cigarette on your balcony, the warm night air hitting your cool skin and making your armpits prickle at the heat. You had gotten dressed whilst the two men took their own time freshening up in the shower, and you were now enjoying the blissfulness that the evening air provided.

"You got a spare one for me?" Murphy asked as he rested his elbows on the iron railing. His hair had been slicked back, and he was wearing his work shirt which had been rolled so the sleeves sat just above his elbow. His eyes reflected the orange hues from the street below you, and he looked peaceful for once.

Without verbally answering, you offered the pack across to him and followed up with your lighter. 

Not that you'd tell him, but Murphy was probably one of the only men you trusted with your life, a privilege not even Peña was granted, especially after the raid last month which ended in you spraining your ankle due to his stupidity, and 'Jump, Y/N, I'll catch you,' followed by you landing hard on your ankle and rolling it under your weight.

You didn't want to speak, not because of what had just happened, but because of the serenity the night provided.

"Javier's just putting his shoes on, we can walk over when he's ready," Murphy exhaled the smoke through his nose, the tendrils of smoke dancing in the night and meeting the smoke you had just breathed out, "These are always better in the night," he continued to speak. It was nice having calm moments like this, you'd missed the normality of it all.

You smiled softly, your hair framing your face and causing it to tickle your neck, "I think they're better in the morning with coffee," you admitted, your voice heavy with the smoke in your throat. As soon as you spoke, you could feel his eyes on you whilst you watched the people partying in the street below, the music barely reaching your balcony as they all spoke out in unison, 'Pablo is dead,' they chanted in their native languages, some variation of the statement reverberating across the buildings looming over the road. 

Everyone looked happy that they didn't have to fear their walk to work or walking alone at night, and you knew there would be people sad at the news, specifically his relatives and the close friends of the late drug lord, but part of your heart longed for the solidarity the people of the city held for each other. They were finally happy he had died, and you were too, the year long headache was subsiding and you felt somewhat at peace.

Murphy's knuckle knocked against yours playfully, "Let's head out... you don't want to miss all of the celebrations do you?" he asked before planting a soft, innocent kiss against the bare skin of your shoulder. You had managed to cover all of the bruises with makeup (plus your hair was down and managed to cover the worst of the attempted cover-up) but it felt nice knowing that the remnants of Steve's passion were all over your aching body.

"Sure," You whispered, and waited for him to move away first, still enjoying the tranquility of the balcony and the blanket of stars. 

When you were sure Murphy had moved away, you put out your cigarette on the sole of your shoe, a stupid habit you desired to break, and made your way through the apartment, drunk in euphoria from the events that still plagued your mind. 

Obviously, you'd changed underwear, now donning a standard - yet sexy - black set, and you'd even put on a dress too, the dark satin barely reaching mid thigh as it draped over you, the neckline of the dress showing your cleavage and making everyone look at you as you walked into the room.

Javi gave you a quick look over before grabbing the keys you'd left on the mantle, "I'm driving," he commented, and walked out into the night, Murphy hot on his heels whilst you complained and locked your front door.

It wasn't that Javier couldn't drive, just that he drove like a grandpa, taking extreme caution to follow road laws and watch out for any pedestrians who never lingered close to the road. You were sat in the middle back seat, legs crossed and your hands on either of the two seats in front of you. 

The club wasn't far from your house, it was probably a ten minute walk at most, meaning that it was only a three minute drive from it, and Peña was being violently gentle with his driving tonight.

"Can you speed up, I need a drink?" You asked him and watched as Steve met your eyes in the rear-view mirror. 

You knew he was about to respond, but still found your eyes rolling the moment he parted his lips, "Maybe you should've had a drink before we left," he stated and slouched in the seat, his legs spreading so that they took up most of the footwell.

"I didn't exactly have time, but okay _dad_ ," You whined, eyes still locked in the mirror as he swallowed back the word you'd jokingly shoved at him, ignoring the reaction he had and giggling along to yourself at the joke in your head. Of course he liked being called that he definitely gave away the vibe of -

Peña shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, "We're almost here, Y/N," he told you, and, without warning, you undid your seatbelt and darted out of the car, struggling to maintain your balance in the heels you wore, and traipsed over to the bar where the rest of the DEA agents were, some familiar faces waved to you before you saw the man you desperately wanted to see.

"Daniel Van-Fucking-Ness!" You squealed with excitement, your chin tilting upwards until you saw met the eyes of your longtime friend and confidant, you and Van Ness had worked together before, but that was a few years before this Escobar mess had erupted and, unfortunately, separated the pair of you.

He opened his arms, "There she is!" he exclaimed and pulled you into his arms, "How's my favourite bulletproof girl?" he joked and his fingers grazed the bandage Murphy had reapplied for you. You smiled up at him.

"Y'know me," You winked, suddenly aware that his partner was looming behind him, the blonde hair and brown eyes melting your heart, "Chrissy my baby boy, get here!" you slurred, and pulled him into your chest where he hugged you back equally as strong, "God, I've missed the pair of you," you informed, ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching you.

Chris smiled at you, "How's the arm?" he asked whilst Van Ness spoke to Murphy, both of them discussing how Escobar went down whilst Peña stood achingly close to you, "Y'know after reports came in that someone had been shot, we instantly knew it would be our best girl," he entertained, Peña now wrapping his arm around your back and grabbing your hip under his rough hands.

"She's a fighter, aren't you?" The way he said your name felt threatening and laced with false friendliness, of course he'd be fucking jealous of you greeting your oldest friends, who wouldn't be? You felt as if you were in a relationship with everyone you worked with at this point - not helped by your colleague's reactions, of course.

You bitterfully laughed, "I can swing at you if you're wanting me to prove my point," you said through your smile as you caught Van Ness making his way over to you, his hand holding a tray full of shots. Peña squeezed your hip a bit too hard, and you winced at him.

"This one's on me!" Van Ness interrupted, handing one to Chris as the rest of you plucked the little shot glasses from the sticky circular bar tray. "To the Druglord's Death!" he yelled, raising his shot glass (which looked like a thimble in his large hands) and downed it.

In unison, everyone repeated his message, downing the shots and loosening up as the alcohol filled their bellies. 

Unfortunately for you, you hadn't eaten anything all day, your stomach full of the one shot you'd had and two pints of coffee, landing for an interesting mix as you started to down a pint someone had offered you.

And, after a few more shots, you felt your vision slowing and disorientating you, "I'm gonna go for a smoke," you stated, and wobbled outside where there was a gaggle of a few men, one whom you recognised but not enough to know his name. He was handsome too, well maintained hair, a Hawaiian shirt which showed the hair across his chest, and you could smell what he was smoking, too.

_Weed_

Sure, you'd smelled enough of it throughout the many drug busts you'd accompanied, and it wasn't unfamiliar to you by any stretch, but this smell, and his face was enough to jog your memory, the name on his file was 'Hélmer' and you were pretty sure he only went by his last name, that or it was the only thing you had heard people refer to him as.

"You wanting some?" He offered, and held the joint across to you, protecting the lit end from the cool breeze of the night. You looked at the little brown roll, and back up to him, the man on his arm too close to be only friends.

You weren't even thinking straight, the mixture of alchohol in your belly deciding from you as you took it from his hand and looked him in the eye, "I've never-" you started but got cut off by his low chuckle.

"Just hold it in your lungs like cigarette smoke, breathe it out when you're ready," he instructed, and gestured for you to continue on with the smoking. You did as he said, placing the blunt between your lips and taking a deep breath, ensuring you inhaled it deeper into your lungs before holding for a few seconds, and releasing it. You did it three times before passing it back to him.

A smile brewed at your lips and you found yourself thanking him for his offer, and then you turned around to go back into the venue when you were hit by the intense state of euphoria the weed gave you... it was probably pure considering it came from a member of what would be the Cali Cartel, and it hit differently to any cigarette you'd smoked, the taste of it still lingering on your lips as you staggered inside and landed on Murphy's arm as he spoke to various agents and regained about how brave you had been, even offering to show your bullet wound from Escobar's last battle.

One of the men before you asked if it had hurt and you giggled foolishly, "No, I couldn't feel it..." you drawled, leaning all of your weight into the American's shoulders as you scanned the room for Javier, but instead you met the eyes of a handsome stranger, one who, again, looked familiar, but you didn't know his name, only his face from a brief moment of scanning various case files. "I'll be right back," you politely spoke before making your way across the bar and slithered towards the familiar face of the man you felt as though you knew.

"May I interest you in a drink?" He asked you, and waved the bartender over towards the pair of you, your hands holding onto the wooden surface to support your body. You nodded softly and he ordered two of what he was having, sending a wink to the bartender before turning to face you, "What's a gorgeous girl like you doing in a bar like this?" he spoke, and it felt as though it was a veiled threat, the man before you's smile turning sour as he pressed something long and cool into your leg; a gun.

You giggled softly, the drugs in your system causing everything to be funny, even in a moment like this, and his face screwed up in confusion. You knew he was another member of the Cali Cartel, and wondered if anyone else in the bar recognised him. You wanted Murphy to swoop in and lead you away, you didn't realise how much of a mistake you had made smoking the blunt, but now you were running through the ways you could get out of this situation, and they were dwindling by the second.

"Y/N! There you are," Murphy appeared to the left of you, his brow covered in concern and dripping with sweat as he stood there panting, "have you been smoking?" he asked with an air of certainty, "We need to leave, now," he told you and grabbed your arm. You pleaded with your eyes and hinted to the metal against your bare thigh. 

You smiled at him, "Head home, I'll be back in a few," you lied and smiled through the water dripping down your face... was it that you were crying? you never cried, not ever, and Murphy was one of the few people who had seen you cry a handful of times, and he knew then that you were in danger.

"You, into the restroom, now," He directed Murphy, and stood up, guiding you with the gun to your pelvis, "or she gets it," he threatened, his dark eyes tainted with the evilness within him. Fuck, you should've stayed home with them both, invited Van Ness and Chris around, not here in a bar which housed two criminals... maybe even more.

Murphy silently walked his way to the door behind you and pushed it open, allowing any occupants to leave before he swung at the man holding the gun at you, he was quick enough to ensure you were behind the shield of his body before the assailant squeezed the trigger.

The sound was loud enough to deafen you, the echoing off the tiles enough to add insult to injury as you turned away from the source, ignoring the blood splattering across the front of your dress from where it ripped clean through your partner and into your hip, not making it through anything vital, but still causing enough pain to bleed through your body.

The man with the gun darted out through the window, and you heard shouts from the other side of the locked door.

"Murph?" Your whisper was laced with your tears as your small hands pressed against the front of the wound, the fear in his eyes evident and painful as he stared into you, his knees failing him as he sunk to the ground and attempted to stop his fall by using his hand slicked with his own blood. "Murph, it's gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay," you lied and followed him down to his curled up position on the floor. 

You had never been more scared in your entire life as he looked at you, his breaths shallow, "Don't... leave me... I," he swallowed his pain, "I don't wanna... die alone," his breathing was ragged as the door swung open on its hinges violently, you falling over his body to protect him from any potential attackers, he was clinging onto life desperately now, his blood coating your legs as you struggled to push down on the wound whilst tears spilled from your eyes.

"Murphy, you're not dying today... just stay with me," you begged him, and drove the heel of your palm into his wound as someone pulled you off him and sat you on the ceramic sink littered with graffiti and cocaine residue. You tried squeezing past the man who had sat you on the sink to get to Murphy, but instead found a familiar pair of hands either side of your face and pulling your jaw so you were once again looking at him.

Peña's eyes were brimming with tears, and he spoke with a strangled sorrow drowning his tone, "You can't do anything for him, just let Chris do his best whilst I take a look at you," he offered and you slapped him.

"No," you spat and launched yourself past him so that you were by Murphy's side once again, your hand wrapped around his whilst he struggled to focus on your fearful face.

His eyes started to dull, and his face went slack ever so slightly, "What's happening?" you asked Chris, who had his fingers wedged under his jaw where you had only placed kisses an hour ago, and he counted in his head, "Chrissy, you better do something, or I swear to God-," your threat was cut off when Van Ness sprinted in, his face red from exertion as he threw across a flimsy first aid kit.

"I got the Cadillac ready, we need to take him to hospital, now," Daniel commented and you cried a fucking awful sob as Chris declared he had no pulse, the man you had a soft spot for, who had almost given his life for you, struggling to hang onto what you desperately wanted him to. You wanted him to survive this so so badly, and yet you knew if he died now, he died protecting someone he loved.

* * *

The race to the hospital proved that Van Ness was a better driver than you had expected, and that Peña was as equally terrified as you were, his hands slicking his hair back every five minutes as he smoked a cigarette out the car window. Your hair whipped around your face, one hand latched into Murphy's (who was now breathing but barely holding on) and the other pushing into your bullet wound.

"I called ahead and they've prepared for surgery," Chris spoke out of nowhere and terrified you, making you jump against the seatbelt across your chest. Murphy had his head in your lap, and his hand was over yours as you pushed down into his wound. You needed him to survive this more than anything in the world. It was like you'd been thrown into the desert and he was the first drink of water you had had in years. He was every fibre of your being as an Agent, and you were starting to learn how he was as a lover.

Van Ness pulled into the ER parking bays, his eyes looking for the emergency medical team as they dashed out to meet the five of you all cramped into the stylish car, and you felt your door open, Peña pulling you off Murphy whilst you protested and screamed and kicked and hurled obscenities at him in order to get to the Blond American you were involved with.

"Quit it," He barked, his hand jabbing into your side where the wound seared into your skin, "You need a doctor too," He reinforced and lead you towards the emergency room, where Murphy was being prepped for surgery. 

He looked up at you from beneath the ventilator they had prepped, and he pulled it to the side just so as you could hear what he was trying to say to you, "Take a deep breath, sweetheart,".


End file.
